


Goodbye, Love, Goodbye

by halfwit



Series: In Sickness and In Health [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Angst, But he wants everyone to know he loves them, Cancer, Caring Dean, Coping with illness, Dean hates chick-flick moments, Dean's a big softie, He made me cry, M/M, Sad Dean, Sick Dean, Sick Dean Winchester, Suicidal Thoughts, Timestamp, saying goodbye
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-28
Updated: 2015-02-28
Packaged: 2018-03-15 14:29:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3450551
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/halfwit/pseuds/halfwit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After being diagnosed with cancer at seventeen, Dean Winchester is trying to decide what to do. There are a lot of decisions to make, plans to set in place. The one thing he wants to make sure of, though, is that when he's gone he's loved ones know exactly how he felt about them, even if he is afraid to say the words while he's still here.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Goodbye, Love, Goodbye

**Author's Note:**

> I think this story can work as a stand alone piece. However, I think it makes a little more sense if you have read the first story in this series - No Day But Today. 
> 
> This story would be set before Chapter 12 of No Day But Today.

The reflection in the mirror mocked him.

The waif staring back, deep bruise-black patches under dull green eyes could not be Dean Winchester. His mind’s eye tried to superimpose what he used to look like before. Once again it was as if the universe was conspiring against him: It was as though there was a big cosmic joke, and it had been decided Dean would be a hilarious punchline.

Dean wanted to punch something - preferably the mirror. He wanted to feel the sharp pain of his knuckles connecting sharply with the smooth coldness of the glass in front of him. He wanted the satisfaction of watching the pane split and crack, to watch his own image fracture. He longed to feel the distracting pain as the glass shards split through the toughened skin of his knuckles and the more tender skin of his finger tips. He wanted to smell the metallic tang of coppery blood - anything to distract him from the reality at hand.

Too much was out of his control.

He felt his world was split into two distinct spheres - before his diagnosis and after.

Before the word cancer had no real meaning. It was an ailment that afflicted other people, older people. Before he had his whole future to plan - college, significant other, family, career. There also were more immediate concerns: virginity to lose, alcohol to consume, parties to attend. After, none of those held the same significance. After the world narrowed in focus to the sterile environment of the hospital, to tests, needles, and unimaginable pain. After the only cocktail he had to look forward to involved a PICC line and chemotherapy.

Sure, the revelation of his cancer had one upside; it finally got him and Castiel together. The specter of death was enough to prod the two to what they were too afraid to risk their friendship for. They were together, but at what cost. Dean was nothing if not pragmatic about his chances. The doctor tried to put a positive spin on things: They caught it in the earlier stages; his general good health before diagnosis; his youth. The reality was Dean knew he had only a twenty-five to forty percent chance of survival.

Knowing his marginal chance at full remission, Dean should have continued to resist temptation. He fought his attraction to Cas for years; he should have been continue to fight. But, he was weak. He didn’t was too weak to fight his attraction and to battle his own body. It was selfish of him to indulge. Selfish to admit his adoration for Castiel. Selfish for Dean to allow himself to call Castiel his boyfriend. But, he didn’t want to deny himself this. If these were his final months, he wanted to make the most of them.

Logically, he knew this would hurt them both more in the long run. He knew it would bring him pain to see castiel’s suffering. He knew if he did die it would crush Cas even more. He could put an end to this, if he were stronger.

Dean wandered out of his bathroom and back into his bedroom. He flopped heavily onto his bed and stared up at the cracked plaster in his ceiling. Facing another long day with nothing but time in front of him, Dean pondered what to do. Castiel and Sam both were at school. Bobby was at the garage working a shift, and Ellen had gotten called to fill in for a shift herself. Dean wasn’t allowed at school, too much risk of infection or other illness that could jeopardize his treatment options. This left the young Winchester with an abundance of time with nothing to do with it.

This gave Dean an abundance of time to think, which is exactly what he did not want. Because when he had the time, the teenager had to face harsh realities in the cold light of day. There was a distinct possibility he would not live to see the end of his teens. He could spend the next year or two in and out of treatment programs with increasingly painful side effects. He didn’t want to see his family’s optimism crushed beneath the weight of his illness if the combination of surgery and chemotherapy didn’t help.

It would kill Dean to bring such pain to his family, but the alternative would be for him to take his own life - that probably would hurt his loved ones even more. As hard as it was, Dean knew he would fight on, and if the end came at least he knew he would go down swinging.

Before his treatments started, Dean thought he might as well take advantage of his privacy - no boyfriend hovering in concern; no little brother flashing huge puppy eyes to prod Dean to eat; no parents trying to unobtrusively monitor how much pain he was in. If there was one thing he hated, it was to be a burden to anyone. However, he had to resign himself to the fact that like it or not, he was going to have to ask for and receive help.

Shuffling over to his desk, Dean dumped some of the papers onto his floor, making a mental note to pick them up later. He wanted to clear some room because he wanted to make sure everything was in order. Although he wasn’t legally an adult, he had been trying to make some adult decisions. He wanted to have as much in order as possible to alleviate additional concerns from his family in the worst case. Already he and his family’s attorney, Balthazar, discussed his living will and his desire to not be kept alive by extraordinary measures. The attorney reluctantly agreed. There was one last thing he wanted to put in order, just in case, and while he still had the ability to do so.

Pulling out a notebook from his desk, Dean found a clean sheet of paper. He stared at the crisp page wondering how to begin. The young man was known for many things, his ability and willingness to “share and care” with his feelings was not one of his better attributes. In fact, most times he would rather be subjected to watch a five-hour documentary with Cas on the mating cycles of bees rather than have a discussion about his feelings. However, if this whole treatment thing went sideways on him, he didn’t want to leave his loved ones in the lurch. He wanted them to know exactly what they meant to him, it doesn’t mean he has to tell them in person. Call him a coward, he would prefer to think of it as avoiding the high potential for a chick-flick moment.

He picked up the closest pen and contemplated what he wanted to say and to whom. He figured the first letter should be to Balthazar. Although there still was something a little creepy about the often-douchy British lawyer, the man had been fair and honest with Dean in their dealings. The teen realized the older man was uncomfortable with the subterfuge they engaged in regarding his DNR and living will, but he treated Dean with respect and as an adult. This was Dean’s chance to say thanks.

He was able to write the letter fairly quickly. He wrote a few others in rapid fire succession. The missives were for friends or more distant relations. The letter he wrote to his father took a little longer, but only because he didn’t want his last words to his father to be full of bitterness and anger; those emotions would be evident, but he wanted some warmth and affection to come through as well. After all, in many ways, Dean believed John Winchester did the best he could. It didn’t excuse the fact that he was a shitty father under most circumstances, but he had tried after his wife’s death to honor her memory. Her death just left too big of a hole in his life and he never was able to recover. Dean hoped the same would not be true for Castiel upon Dean’s passing.

The next letters were more difficult to write. Dean found himself having to stop repeatedly as he wrote to Bobby and Ellen, his adoptive parents. They had given him so much, and he knew in the coming months they would be giving even more as they helped him through his treatment. They were parents to him when his own father had decided he couldn’t be bothered to stick around.

Swiping errant tears from his face, Dean found the words pouring out onto the page. He gave his heartfelt thanks for their love and loyalty. He said he loved them, even if he would never be able to find the words in person, he wanted them to know.

By the time he finished writing to Bobby and Ellen, Dean felt emotionally drained. However, he knew he still had the most difficult letters to write. He needed to write to Sam and Castiel. For as important as Bobby and Ellen are to Dean, Sam and Cas are his universe. He didn’t even know how to sum up everything he was feeling. He didn’t know how to say goodbye, because that was what this was. He was Dean Winchester, damn it, and he wanted to say goodbye and go out somewhat on his own terms.

His left hand snaked around to the back of his neck and rubbed nervously to ease some of the tension. Quickly deciding he would write Sam’s letter first, the older brother had to blink furiously to clear the pooling moisture from his eyes.

It took three drafts before Dean came up with a version he was satisfied with.

_Sammy,_

_ I know, I know. Now that you are going through your growth spurt, you think you are grown and you want to be treated as an adult. Let me tell you something, Sasquatch, even if you outgrow me (which I don’t think is ever gonna happen), I’m still going to be the big brother, and you are always going to be Sammy to me. Deal with it. _

_ We’ve been through a lot in a short period. We’ve always had each others’ backs, and if there is one thing I hate more than anything with this cancer gig, it’s knowing that I might not be there for you. I’m your big brother, I’m supposed to always be there for you, not the other way around. I wish you didn’t have to see what is going to happen to me. I wish I could stay frozen in your mind before. I wish it could be like when I was 10 and you were 6 and you wanted to dress up as me for Halloween because I was your hero. I had to go into the bathroom to get my shit together after that - I don’t think I ever told you that - it meant the world to me that you thought so much of me, because I’m like ninety percent crap; but, you always thought I was awesome. I’m gonna miss that. _

_ I don’t want you to mourn me too much when I’m gone. I know, you’re gonna be sad, and I appreciate that. But, you are gonna have a great life, Sammy. You are gonna knock it out of the park and be the biggest success in the world. You are going to go to college and get a great job, find the perfect girl - or guy - and settle down and have the most awesome apple pie life ever. Just remember to tell your little Sasquatches about their awesome Uncle Dean and how much he would’ve loved them. And, don’t forget to tell them how proud he was of their papa. _

_ I’m not sure where life will take you, but I know this, you are my brother and I love you and I always will be proud of you, bitch. _

_ Love, _

_Dean_

After completing the letter, Dean had to put his head down on his desk. He felt his chest constricting, and the tears in his eyes start to spill over. He couldn’t do this. How was he supposed to say goodbye to the people he loved most? It felt like he was giving up, even if he wasn’t. He tasted the salt from his tears and he sniffled to try to compose himself. He wasn’t giving up: He was just being realistic. Damn it, if Dean WInchester had to go out, he might as well have a chick-flick extravaganza on the way to the exit.

Struggling for composure, Dean convinced himself to finish his last letter. This one was for Castiel. In many ways, this was going to be even more gut-wrenching than what he wrote to Sam. Dean and Cas had been best friends for so long that even if he was just saying goodbye to his best friend it would be painful. However, the fact that they had started dating made this farewell even more bittersweet. Dean didn’t know if they were going to be together in six months or a year. He talked to a counselor in the hospital who said that major illnesses, such as Dean’s, had the capacity to bring families and loved ones closer together, or to rip them apart. Dean hoped that Cas and he would make it through, it was difficult to envision a life without Cas, but he knew they were fighting an uphill battle and the deck was stacked against them.

Regardless of where he and Castiel ended up when it was time for the darker-haired boy to read his letter, Dean wanted to express everything he was feeling.

Looking at the clean sheet of paper, poised for his thoughts, Dean suddenly felt a wall form in his mind. He didn’t know what to say...nothing seemed quite right. Everything either seemed too maudlin, too sappy, or too formal. None of the words that sprang immediately to mind properly conveyed all he wanted Castiel to know.

_Hey Cas,_

_ If you’re reading this, I’ve kicked the bucket and you don’t have to deal with my cancer ridden ass any longer. _

Dean ripped the page from his notebook. Too bitter, too flippant. It undermined everything he and Cas were to each other. The letter read too much like Dean’s standard sarcasm defense mechanism. That definitely wouldn’t do.

_My dearest,_

Okay, just no. Dean couldn’t even believe he had written that down. He actually was a little appalled at himself that he even had thought something so cliched. Had he fallen asleep during one of Ellen’s Lifetime movies again?

_Cas,_

_ I wanted to take a moment to tell you I love you. I am sure I have said it before this point, and if I haven’t, shame on me. _

Nope, still didn’t sound right. He needed inspiration.

Leaning back in his chair, Dean closed his eyes and started thinking of everything he and Castiel had shared. He smiled as he thought about some of their adventures - or misadventures as kids. His heart swelled when he remembered the time when he was thirteen and he looked at the messy haired, blue-eyed boy digging for worms in the mud next to him and realized he was looking at forever. Dean laughed a humorless laugh, forever. That was a joke. At this rate, they’d be lucky to make it to senior prom.

Mind drifting through various memories - some good, some sad - Dean was surprised to find himself humming. It took him a moment to place exactly what tune what rattling around in his head. The melody felt familiar, but also out-of-place. Dean was a classic rock kind of guy, it was one of the few positive things he inherited from John. But, the tune wasn’t Zeppelin or AC/DC. There were rock undercurrents to it, but it wasn’t a straight out rock song.

He continued humming the melody, trying to place where he had heard this song. After a few minutes it finally dawned on him. A few weeks before his diagnosis Castiel had dragged Dean to the local theater. A travelling troupe was performing the rock musical “Rent,” and the young Novak had desperately wanted to go, so he dragged his best friend along.

Dean wasn’t much for musicals, he still wanted the three hours back when he had to watch Sam’s school production of “Oklahoma,” he deserved a brother of the year medal for that, especially since Sam didn’t actually perform in the show, he was on the technical crew. Despite that bad experience, Dean found himself loving “Rent.” The characters were vibrant, the story compelling, and the music was loud and brash.

One of Dean’s favorite parts came when the young heroine, Mimi, confronted her former boyfriend, Roger. Mimi was getting progressively more ill from complications from HIV, and she felt this was the last time she would ever see the man she loved. In that moment all she wanted to tell him was goodbye, love. That was the tune Dean found himself humming. Torn between chuckling and crying, Dean couldn’t help but note the irony of the situation: At the moment, his real life was mirroring the stage, and he needed to find a way to tell his own love goodbye.

Straightening in his chair, Dean groped blindly for his pen, he had the inspiration he needed to get through Castiel’s letter. The words poured out of him like a dam had broken and he couldn’t keep his thoughts inside. Though the letter wasn’t long, it encapsulated their relationship in all its facets perfectly; it was everything he could hope to say to the love of his life.

Although he was physically and mentally exhausted from his writing, Dean needed to make sure he tidied everything up, it wouldn’t be good if someone discovered the letters before he passed - that would just be awkward. Carefully, Dean placed each letter into an envelope and labeled the letter for the individual. He placed the packet in his desk and covered it with his seldomly used thesaurus. He then picked up all his discarded drafts and made sure he tore them up into tiny pieces that would not make sense, if anyone would find them.

Returning to his bed, Dean flopped on to the mattress and glanced at his bedside clock. It was 1:45; he still had another hour or so before anyone came home. More than enough time to take a nap to recharge his emotional batteries and prepare himself to be strong for his family. If he was going to fight this - if he was going to beat this - he would need to learn to lean on his family, but he also would need to build up his own strength.

Closing his eyes, Dean let his head sink into the pillow and he let sleep overtake him. He knew when he woke he would be regaled with stories from Castiel and Sammy about their days. He couldn’t wait. After a day spent finding ways to say goodbye to those he loved, he was more than ready to say hello.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I got the idea for this story several weeks ago and I wasn't quite sure what to do with it. I finally decided to write it down and see what happened. I am fairly happy with it. I know that Dean's letter to Sam made me cry buckets.
> 
> I didn't want to write out Dean's letter to Castiel since that letter already is part of the first story in this series. If you wanted to read (or re-read) Dean's letter to Cas, it is in Chapter 12 "Say Something."
> 
> I struggled with this a little because I wanted Dean to be vulnerable in dealing with his emotions immediately after his diagnosis, but I couldn't see him all of a sudden clamoring to say to everyone that he loved him. I thought this worked as a good compromise. Also, when I was younger, I stumbled across letters very similar to Dean's, that my mother wrote - she was going through a serious illness and she had done the same thing, wrote everything down so she could tell us all exactly what she thought for us to read at the time of her passing.
> 
> What did you think about the story? Love it? Hate it? Changes you would like to see? Did you cry? Like I said, I bawled, my husband made fun of me a little for it.
> 
> Thank you all so much, as always, for reading my little ramblings. You all are the best and I love to hear from you <3!


End file.
